Every Day I Write the Book
by Tess DiCorsi
Summary: Midpoint of season five. Deeks alone.
1. Two Or Three Editions

**DISCLAIMER**: Not mine.  
**STORY NOTES**: December 2013 - Deeks on his own.

* * *

**1. **"I'm a man with a mission  
in two or three editions.  
And I'm giving you a longing look  
Every day I write the book." - Elvis Costello  
.

Sent December 12, 2013 at 9:30AM PST  
TO: deeks8523 at lapd . lacity . org  
FM: nathan . getz at ncis. navy . mil  
Subject: Sunday the 22nd

Have tix for Sunday's Clippers game against the T-Wolves. Was supposed to go with Rose but her Mom is having knee surgery next week so she'll be with her in Atlanta. Rose does not want to subject me to her post-op Mom. Or pre-op Mom, to the truthful. Since I'm still going to the game and you're my one friend who actually loves the Clippers (as opposed to bandwagon fans that have been there lately), I'm offering you the extra seat. They're great seats and freebies from, well, a high ranking official from this task force I'm on lately.

Hope you're doing well. Was glad to hear you're back in the field.

Sent December 12, 2013 at 4:17PM PST  
TO: nathan . getz at ncis. navy . mil  
FM: deeks8523 at lapd . lacity . org  
Subject: RE: Sunday the 22nd

Hey Nate,

While I'm always up for good seats for the Clips, especially free good seats, I'd ask two favors. First, no head shrinking at the game and second, please don't introduce me at your back-up boo. If that's OK with you, I'm in. I'll even pick up dinner after the game. Maybe the Water Grill?

High ranking official from a task force with access to great seats, hmmmm...name wouldn't rhyme with Oarak Bobama would it? Thanks for thinking about me. Things are what they are here, catching bad guys and looking awesome doing it. Hope the task force is more fun than it sounds.

Sent December 13, 2013 at 8:54AM PST  
TO: deeks8523 at lapd . lacity . org  
FM: nathan . getz at ncis. navy . mil  
Subject: RE: RE: Sunday the 22nd

Definitely the Water Grill. Mmmm...fish. Definitely not Oarak Bobama.

No head shrinking at the game, no introducing you as my plus one (original or back-up). I'll have the ticket sent to you via the Mission's courier drop. See you a week from Sunday. Say hi to everyone for me.

* * *

Deeks looked at the seat location and was still stunned. Maybe President Obama didn't get Nate the seats but Section 101, fourth row and an aisle seat - winning. Not winning - the Clippers. Nate was terrific company and had the most interesting way of stringing words together to not quite swear but still express his extreme annoyance with the team.

They left the game and Deeks drove them to the Water Grill - Nate took the subway to the Staples Center. Deeks recapped NCIS's last trip to the subway, including Callen and Sam on the tracks. Nate, who did a year of post-grad work at the VA Hospital on 23rd Street in New York, told Deeks he never even gets near the edge of the platform to see if the train is coming. "It's not like the train arrives any faster if you do."

Nate made reservations, which got them a booth in back and seated long before the throng of unhappy and reservation-less Clipper fans arrived. That and Deeks knew the hostess from a short undercover job two years before NCIS became something more than another law enforcement acronym. The waiter dropped off the menus and promised to return.

"I was hoping Doc would make them tougher," Deeks told Nate, bemoaning the state of his basketball team.

"Give him time. It's tough for a guy to take over a team and get rid of the stench of decades of losing. Remember, Donald Sterling still owns the team."

"Last few years have been better," Deeks conceded. "But all I want is a parade like the Lakers get, an overpriced championship hat and tee-shirt."

"Cubs fans have waited over one hundred years."

"Yeah, well, they can keep that record. One parade, one big party for the team and some swag – that's all I'm asking." Deeks said as the waiter came by for their order. After deciding to split a plate of fish tacos as an appetizer, Nate ordered the Mahi Mahi with a beer while Deeks, who was driving, got the Chilean sea bass and a near-beer. The waiter complimented them on their order before leaving. "Just once, I'd like the waiter to say 'You blew it man, you should have ordered the swordfish," Deeks joked.

"Or the Nelson Muntz 'ha-ha' laugh," Nate added with a smile. "How's it going with Nell?"

"She's smart, she laughs occasionally at my jokes and doesn't try to make bad ones of her own. All and all, not bad. I like Nell, we're good. In a lot of ways we started at the office around the same time so she's not talking about events or cases I missed before I was there."

"Have you heard from Kensi?"

"She's officially on a classified, black operations mission that is well above both my pay grade and my security clearance. How could I have contact with her?"" Deeks decided to take this conversation carefully. He knew more about Kensi's assignment than any of them thought. While Hetty told him to keep the call from Kensi quiet, and he would, he wouldn't mind showing off his detective skills. Remind someone that he was more than just Officer Joe Friday hanging out with the feds.

"That's not an answer," Nate noted.

Deeks chuckled. "If the shrink thing isn't working for you, law school could be an option."

"Also, not an answer."

"Every day I don't hear about her from Hetty is a day I'm sure she's safe and OK. If it went south, someone would tell me."

"Do you know where she is?"

"Do you?" Deeks asked.

"Are you going to keep answering with some misdirection?"

Deeks thought about his answer. Which in some ways was an answer.

"You know where she is, don't you?"

"Her exact location? Right now? No."

"But you know."

"Off the record?"

"Your secret is safe with me."

"Well, when nobody would tell me anything, I started making of pest of myself. Figured I'd get an answer from someone who just wanted me to go away."

"Did it work?"

"Not with the people I was pestering. I had a strange conversation with Hetty which caught a lot of people's attention. I used the pest and pity cards to my advantage."

Nate smiled. "You played them?"

"Not played. But there are aspects of the liaison position that nobody knows about except me. For example, the 'Can I ask you a favor, man, just between you and me' part"

"You collect favors?"

"Playing people, collecting favors, why are you choosing such ugly words for how I deal with my co-workers, Nate?" Deeks faux-chided before adopting several voices. "Hi, Detective Deeks, this is Willa in Wardrobe. I totally understand if you can't help but my son was pulled over for doing 45 in a 15 mph zone. He's willing to pay the ticket but can you call someone about the points? I'll owe you, especially if you don't mention this to Hetty." Voice change. "Hey, Deeks, this is Patty in Purchasing, I know we're not supposed to do this but I woke up this morning with a boot on my car, can you help out? I'll pay back the favor, I swear." Voice change. "Hey man, it's Aaron from accounting. My neighbor is having parties until 4AM every night. Can you talk to him? I'll do your taxes or something. I can make your expense reports sing, Hetty would love it." Voice change. "Detective, this is Eric's pal Ollie in Ops. I know there are a lot of ex-cops working Staples Center security, One Direction is playing there this week and my 12-year old would love to see them. If you can get us in, I'll owe you forever."

"You called in a favor."

"Didn't have to. Three different people reassured me Kensi was fine while dropping little pieces of information that I was able put together. And if you tell that to Hetty or Callen or Nell or anyone else, I'll deny that to the end. I'm a highly trained undercover operative. I could probably pull that off."

Nate smiled. "I believe you could. But I'm not talking to Hetty, Callen or Nell. I'm talking to you, Deeks. Just you"

"Then I should warn you about my new project."

"Uh oh."

"I told Nell I'm going to figure out how you two know each other."

"She still hasn't told you?" Nate smiled.

"No, and I expect you to be equally closed-mouthed. But I'm a detective, I detect." Deeks told him as the waiter returned with fish tacos, beer and near-beer. "Since you're both scary smart and you know scary smart people who do scary smart things, that's going to be my first avenue of investigation. Mensa meetings or something."

"You're a smart man. I didn't meet you until your NCIS psych eval in April 2010."

"That was a psych eval?" Deeks joked as he took a bite out of his taco. "And here I thought you were just really interested in me."

"I am. Actually, that's why I wanted to talk to you tonight."

Deeks put his taco down on his plate and took a sip of his near-beer. Only semi-awful, he thought. "I thought you promised no head shrinking tonight."

"Actually, if you remember the e-mail, counselor, I promised no head shrinking at the game," Nate put his hand up before Deeks could object. "But no head shrinking today."

"Hetty arrange this?" Now the great seats made sense to Deeks.

"No. No Hetty involvement at all. As I told you when we spoke on the beach a few months ago, I don't share Hetty's agenda when it comes to you. She has hers and that is to put in place the best team possible. My agenda is having the people on the team in the best place possible."

Deeks thought Hetty's agenda lately included taking away all the things that put him in the best place possible but he kept that belief to himself. "So if Hetty didn't arrange this..."

"I did. The tickets really were a gift from the new SecNav's Director of Mental Health Issues. And I was actually going to the game with Rose until her Mom tore up her knee. But this gave me a chance to talk to you in a more informal setting instead of meeting you at the boat shed after the first of the year," Nate explained before finishing his taco. Washing it down with his beer, he continued. "I'm a member of a joint military mental health task force about the use of coercive tactics against members of the military in the global war on terror."

"As it has been pointed out time and time again, I'm not military," Deeks said, working hard to keep his growing annoyance out of his voice.

"No, you're not. You're barely a civilian, though. You're a specialist."

"Okay." Deeks was regretting the near-beer. Some Grey Goose, maybe a lot of Grey Goose, and a cab home may have been a better plan, especially if he knew he was going under the microscope.

"You work with military personnel because you're a top flight operative, a stateside version of a military contractor in some ways. Your long undercover operations show a discipline and skill those pointing out you're not career military should envy."

"Most of them can't get past the hair."

"Sam didn't for a long time," Nate said before the server removed their appetizer plates. "His reaction to you after help arrived in the garage was just another example of that."

"He was worried about his wife," Deeks told him. "Wait, how do you know about that?"

"I read all the after-action reports. Interviewed some of the people present."

"Great," Deeks sighed. "Is this my interview? Do I need my union rep or a lawyer?"

"You are a lawyer."

"And I don't have a fool for a client."

"I'm not questioning you. I'm telling you about my work," Nate said. "I spoke to the EMTs and the members of the rescue team who didn't know Quinn was Sam's wife. They also didn't know the extent of Sam's injuries but they all saw yours and several were troubled by his reaction."

"As long as the EMTs got me out of there, Sam could have reacted anyway he wanted. I wanted to get out of that chair." And nobody seemed to understand that, he continued to himself.

"Kensi was there."

Speaking of someone who didn't seem to understand just how much he wanted out of that chair. "Yes, she was. Both times."

"So it didn't bother you Sam had a harsh reaction and had it in front of a group of other law enforcement and medical professionals? In front of Kensi?"

"I was finally being allowed out of that chair. They were getting me medical attention. I told Sam the truth and then I didn't give a damn what anyone thought. I did my part. I held up my end. And he was helpful in the E.R.," Deeks explained.

"Finally?"

"Not finally. I was in a bad place and Sam was good to me right off in the E.R."

Nate shook his head. "No, you said you were finally being allowed out of the chair. Finally and allowed are telling words in that statement."

"Kensi and Granger found us. They told us what we needed to do to get Michelle back in with Sidorov. We did what we were told to do and then they took Sam and me to the hospital."

"That's a rather dispassionate recounting of the situation."

"Kensi and Granger knew where we were which made a big difference. The plan was to have Michelle do her thing and to get us out of there. That's what happened."

"So you don't think Sam, and I going to use one of the words of a person there, humiliated you in front of the others."

"I was covered in my own blood, spit and if we're being honest here about body fluids, tears and a little bit of piss. I got the crap beat out of me back at Sidorov's house. I lost my gun and had my teeth drilled by a psycho. Add in the lovely chlorine smell in my clothes and the fact that I caused a scene in the E.R. - Sam freaking out over his wife was the least humiliating part of the day," Deeks answered him somewhat disgusted. "Aren't you glad we're going to eat soon?" This was not his idea of dinner talk.

"What about his comments in the park? About your character, your appearance."

"Nate, someone on the team needs to look like a civilian. Sam could hardly pass as homeless or a junkie. That's why I'm there. Besides, it wasn't anything they hadn't heard before from Sam."

"But you rarely defend yourself and certainly not like that."

"You heard?" Deeks was surprised.

"I got the recordings of everything that went into that day. Your time with Sam and Michelle in the park. What happened when you were found the first time, what happened when you were taken to the hospital after Michelle's cover was re-established, Ty showed up with your weapon and encouraged you to rejoin Sam and Kensi in the field – studied it all. The mental health task force asked me to write a chapter for a manual they're putting together. It has sort of grown."

"Two chapters? Am I footnote worthy?"

"The operation has turned into a full case study. You're the heart of a treatise."

"Oh, can I get an autographed copy?" Deeks teased, hoping it would mask how he felt about this bit of news. "To Marty, Without you, none of this would be possible. Your friend in Freud, Nate."

Nate pulled a silver thumb drive out of his pocket and handed it to Deeks. "You're not happy."

"Never been a lab rat before. Not sure I like it." Deeks looked at the thumb drive. "Do I get to comment on this?"

"That's why I gave it to you. I'm interested in any constructive comments you may have."

"Happy I'm allowed to have an opinion," he muttered as he tucked the drive in his back pocket.

"Again with allowed," Nate mused. "Hetty told me she's worried about you."

"Hetty needs a hobby. I'm a little tired of her circling like a traffic helicopter over a car wreck she thinks my life is. Last time I checked, I can make my own decisions. I have been for fifteen years, maybe twenty-five."

"The motorcycle?"

"Among other things."

"Kensi?"

"Among other things," he said more to himself as their food arrived.

"Hetty told me the motorcycle is actually making you some money," Nate said as the server left the table.

"Yes, she pimped it out to a movie Ron Howard is making. I'm getting forty grand when the production end is over. She also has something lined up for some two-day long modeling shoot for Vanity Fair for five large and possibly a movie with the guy who is Thor down the road. I could have some sweet bank by next summer. Hetty was good enough to make sure the checks for the Ron Howard movie and the magazine are sent next month so I can prepare for the tax implications. All tied up in a bow for helpless little me."

"And you're angry about that."

"I don't do angry, Nate. Angry got my old man six years as a guest of the state of California. Besides, I'm being paid to be screwed out of something that's mine so what's the difference? It's not like I have any say."

"So pimping..."

"...is an appropriate term," Deeks told Nate. "I'm just wondering when I get control of my life back."

"Excuse me," Nate seemed confused.

"Well, in some ways, since I was strapped to that chair in the garage, everyone's got plans for me. Some good, some really bad but I don't have a say in a single one of them."

"Hetty never liked motorcycles."

"Yet she has no issue with sending me out on one if it helps clear a case. If I want to have something for me, something fun, well, then that's dangerous since I can't be trusted not to kill myself doing something that isn't work. And of course Kensi has one because she's, well, Kensi and can be trusted to make adult decisions. I'm just some man-child who is told what to do and has to be protected from himself."

"I told her I thought taking the motorcycle away from you was a mistake."

"Hetty doesn't make mistakes," Deeks shoveled some of his fish into his mouth. "She makes decisions in the best interest of the team and the case."

"Not your best interests."

"Off the record and between you and me," Deeks said.

"Of course," Nate said sincerely.

"If anyone gave a damn about my best interests, maybe Kensi would have cut me loose and gotten me to the hospital when she first found me in Sidorov's garage."

"That was a mistake. Hetty should not have sent Kensi in to deal with you."

"You think?"

"Are you angry at her for doing that?"

"I'd ask which her you're talking about but I'm not angry with either of them. I'm not angry that Hetty wanted me to stay there. I'm not angry that Kensi was the messenger and did what she was told. I'm not angry that Kensi left me in the hospital to finish Hetty's assignment. I'm not angry that Kensi isn't here and that Hetty sent her away. It doesn't change what happened in the past and doesn't change where anyone is right now. So no, still not angry."

"The urgency of Sidorov having the nukes..."

"Bullshit. When Sam was locked up as Quinn's boyfriend a few months before my time with Isaak and his drill, someone had to tell Sam he was staying in jail while Michelle met with Sidorov. Hetty went herself because she didn't want Sam to be angry, unhappy or whatever with Callen. At the time, Sam was a little annoyed but perfectly healthy. Healthy enough to get himself out of jail and save Michelle."

"Sounds like something Hetty would do for their partnership."

"For their partnership, you bet. For me, however, well I was knocked around pretty good before I was brought to a garage. I was strapped to a chair and well, you know what happened happened. So unlike a healthy Sam Hanna back in March, I'm in that place when Hetty sends Kensi in to tell me I'm staying tied to that chair because..."

"If you read what I gave you, one of my conclusions was that sending Kensi in to deal with you was one of the biggest mistakes of the entire operation."

"Sidorov's dead. They got the nukes. Janvier is rotting in a cell in ADX Florence. I'm sure nobody is looking for what went wrong. Especially since I eventually returned to work and I have fabulous new teeth that I don't ever have to worry about getting cavities or needing root canals or being tortured by psychos with drills ever again."

"Every operation is reviewed for what could be improved. A positive outcome..."

"...is not the sign of a successful plan," Deeks finished Nate's thought. "My LAPD boss is former military intelligence. I've heard it before. And to tell you the truth, 'severe dental trauma' and weeks of insomnia aren't really positive outcomes."

Nate nodded his head, taking a bite of his meal. "So if you're not angry, what are you?"

Deeks was surprised by the question. "Working things through, I guess."

"What are you working through?"

"All still confidential?"

"I told you, Hetty's agenda isn't mine. You want to talk, you need to talk, I want to listen. It stays between you and me. And between you and me, you've needed someone to talk to for a long time. Talk."

Deeks put his fork down and sighed. "I'm thinking about my future. What I want. What I want to do," Who I want to do it with, he kept to himself.

"Are you not happy with your current assignment?"

"Outside of working part-time for a catering company from when I was sixteen until I passed the bar, this is the longest time I spent in one job, assignment, whatever."

"A case of wanderlust, perhaps?"

"Maybe it's a case of trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing," Deeks said as he picked up his fork and started picking at what was left of his dinner.

"How does Kensi not being around impact you?"

"Not helpful in some ways. Helpful in others. Not helpful in that when you work with someone for a long time, you fall into rhythms. Kensi was my first full-time partner, really, ever. I had what the department technically considered partners but they were always the handler and I was undercover boy." Deeks quickly added, "Nell isn't the problem. I like working with her, she's not the issue."

"What is?"

"Just thinking maybe it is time to move on. Maybe I'm with NCIS because I like working with Kensi and Callen and Sam. Maybe if they were all out of the picture, maybe if the team didn't gel like it did when I got there, I'd be back at LAPD now. There are three other liaison officers at LAPD. I'm the only one embedded with his agency. Everyone else works out of the Police Administration Building. Maybe I'm getting too comfortable and it's time to try other things."

"Do you want to try other things?"

"Not sure. Maybe I should finally learn how to master something before I try something new. I was a lawyer for a while, was an undercover cop for a while, now I'm this. Someone once said I was a jack of all trades, master of none."

"So you're torn."

Deeks leaned back in the booth. "I guess I'm trying to figure out why I'm still doing this. Is this the rest of my career? Do I want to go back to the LAPD? Do I take up Hetty's long ago offer to join NCIS"

"Do you?"

"Been thinking about it."

"And..."

"And I don't know. I wasn't crazy about the assignment I had before I got strapped to that chair."

"Granger was running that case, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. I had to testify at Monica Davis's sentencing hearing week before last. She was my mark with Granger acting as my handler. I like undercover work. I like setting up someone like what Michelle was doing with Sidorov. Bad people doing bad things deserve whatever play we run. Monica was a hostess at a club. I got friendly with her so I could access her boss' computers and be there, hanging around, when the boss met with people."

"You didn't make her steal the diamonds. You didn't make her..."

"Max did. Max is a bad guy who does bad things and she was trying to keep up."

"I read the sentencing report. She's probably only doing the six months in Level I lock-up at CIW because of what you wrote in your pre-sentencing statement and what you told the judge."

"And if she never met Max, she's probably flirting with some rich guy and oh yeah, not going to jail and recovering from a gunshot wound. That's the part of the job I'm...I don't know." Deeks looked at his food and wondered where it all went. He cleaned his plate and didn't the taste of remember any of it.

"You also were lying to Kensi while working Monica Davis."

"Yeah, that wasn't great. The whole case stunk and for the record, Granger isn't a barrel of laughs to work for, either and he's with Kensi now on her super-secret assignment."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. That wasn't even a favor from someone. Got the heads up from someone outside of NCIS." Bates told him when he explained that Kensi was off on assignment. Seems Army Intelligence and the CIA work well together and gossip like teenagers. "I figure a few more weeks with Assistant Director Sunny Personality and she'll miss my jokes."

"She's going to miss you."

Deeks shook his head. "She's too busy saving the world," Deeks told him.

"Did you figure it out?" Nate asked, looking genuinely curious as he pushed his plate away.

"Figure what out?"

"What made your partnership different? What makes what you and Kensi have special, unique?"

"Sorta."

"Sorta?"

Deeks knew Nate knew the answer to his question. Nate knew on the beach. But Deeks also knew he was half insane at that point because he wasn't sleeping. Any conversation he'd have about Kensi that day would not be what Nate needed to hear. And now, well, Deeks listened to what he told Nate and was more sure than ever he was going back to LAPD. Not today, not next week but if he couldn't work with Kensi, if it was going to kill whatever they have or could have, whatever it was, if he wasn't going to be allowed to be himself and live his life, he was done with NCIS. He might be done anyway. Saying it out loud to Hetty earlier that month opened the door.

"Marty?"

"Marty," he laughed at the use of his first name. "What makes my relationship with Kensi unique, special, whatever," he mused. "Being strapped in that chair, it was the worst thing that ever happened to me. Shitty childhood, living in my car for half a semester in college, spending 83-days undercover as a child molester - all better. By a lot. I wanted to die. It had to be better than where I was. I gave Sam and Michelle everything I had to keep her safe so I had nothing left. I was done. And I was strapped to that goddamn chair, marinating in this mix of pain and blood and trying to forget what's left of the inside of my mouth when Kensi came to me. I thought I was safe. I thought I was getting out of there and it was over. But no. Kensi asked me to stay there. And I did. I wouldn't have done that for Callen or Hetty or Granger or you. Sorry. I wouldn't have done it for anyone but her. She asked and I did it for her. That's what makes our partnership unique. If she needs me, if she needs me to do something, I'll do it if she asks. Because if someone that amazing, that awesome has faith in me, trusts me, maybe I'm someone worthwhile."

Nate looked like he wanted to say something, even started once but changed course. Leaning in, he asked, "Are you worried that she may not see you that way?"

"I think she does. And if she doesn't, then I was wrong. Not the first time in my life, won't be the last."

"Then what?"

Deeks shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe work on becoming someone worthwhile."

The waiter stopped by to clear the table, asking if they wanted dessert. Deciding he deserved a treat, Deeks ordered the caramel bread pudding - it had a holiday sound to it - and a cup of decaf. Nate went with the key lime pie and a second beer.

"You just blew up a chapter of my monograph with what you said," Nate shook his head. "Sending Kensi in to talk to you..."

"No," Deeks shook his head. "It would be obscene to ask someone to do that to their partner. It was for us on some level. Kensi still has issues with it, with me. Wanting to protect me from what happened."

"I don't understand."

"Unique. It's what makes us special. How to deal with what happened can be your case study but honestly, how we deal with each other … do you want to do the shrink thing here?" Deeks saw Nate nod yes. "How many cop-lawyer-surfers with a talent for undercover work are teamed up with federal agents with a Type A to the extreme personality who have survived everything we have? There is nothing to learn about what happened between us in that garage. It's all part of the mix of what makes us work as partners."

"OK, but without reading what I wrote then, what would be your suggestion to the next agent or operative who found someone in your position that day?"

The waiter returned with their dessert and beverages. Once he was out of earshot, Deeks answered. "Unstrap the poor son of a bitch from the chair and get him medical attention. He's already done his fair share."

* * *

Dessert conversation turned to holiday plans including wondering what Kensi was doing. It was nice to talk to someone that didn't openly pity him every time he mentioned her name. Deeks invited Nate to work at the soup kitchen Tuesday night - an offer Nate was happy to accept. Nate wanted to pick up the check but Deeks considered it a payment for the tickets and the unplanned therapy session. Since Nate's Culver City condo was on his way home, Deeks dropped his fellow soup kitchen volunteer at his front door. Nate promised to return the favor Tuesday night.

Sitting at a red light, he saw the Office Depot a few miles from his place was still opened - "Opened Until Midnight For Your Holiday Needs!" Because who doesn't need an electric stapler at twenty to eleven on the Sunday before Christmas. Then he remembered he had about four sheets of blank paper in his apartment and was shaking his toner cartridge when he printed his "Hobbit" movie tickets last week. Since he planned on reading Nate's treatise Monday and having his notes ready on Tuesday night, a quick Office Depot visit was needed.

While the cashier feigned Christmas cheer with the best of them, 500 sheets of paper and a toner cartridge probably wasn't her idea of holiday needs. He threw in the snowman thumb drive to add to the festive feel to his otherwise sad purchases.

Once home, he loaded the toner, the paper and then Nate's masterwork. He took Monty for a quick walk to the corner while the printer did its thing. He returned with a relieved dog to over two hundred printed pages and a very cranky printer. Closing the file, he took Nate's thumb drive and locked it into his desk with his gun. Deeks took his just purchased holiday thumb drive and put it on the corner edge of his computer monitor. Finding a YouTube video of the old Yule Log from TV, he pulled out his phone and took a shot of the only Christmas decoration he had in his apartment.

He downloaded the snowman by the YouTube fire photo and another he had on the phone figuring he'd show them to Kensi when she got back. Maybe he'd take a picture of Nate at the soup kitchen too. He looked at the holiday thumb drive and smiled. Plugging it in, he copied the photos onto the little snowman drive and dated it. Closing the file program, he noticed his word processing program was still opened. What the hell, he thought as he started typing.

December 22, 2013

[img 02119]

[img 02130]

Hey Kens,

Merry Christmas three days early. I hope you liked the photos above. Monty and I decorated your place, as you can see. Unless you show up in the next thirty-six hours (and sorry, our luck just doesn't run that way so you'll be gone through Christmas), I'll keep the tree up until you come home. It is plastic, no fire worries. We can do Christmas when you get back. I'm not expecting much from Afghanistan. You coming back is my gift. I did get you something however. It's a surprise and under the tree. The other photo is the holidays here at Casa de Deeks. Well, I have some cards on top of the fireplace. Sam Hanna, you'll be happy to know, is anti-Christmas cards, especially ones with glitter. I feel a Martha Stewart glue gun and glitter project in my future for Sam's birthday.

You'll never guess what happened today. I became the star of one of Nate's psych term papers: "Marty Deeks as the Prisoner of Isaakaban". Nah, I can probably come up with a better title than that. Anyway, it seems Nate is turning "Deeks and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day" (not much better) last May into some sort of case study about "coercive tactics" impact of torture. I got the title! "The Effect of Dental X-Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Martygolds"

I don't mean to sound so jaded. Nate's a really good man and he's doing important work. I am going to read his Deeksertation (ha ha) and give him serious feedback.

God, I miss you. Talking to you on the phone, it just reminded me how much not talking to you every day hurts.

OK, enough whining.

Nate and I caught a Clippers game - they lost, of course, because they stink (not really) and I can't have nice things. He told me about his case study after the game. We had a nice talk, actually. Nate thinks I need someone to talk to. He's right. I do. But that someone is you. Everyone's being great, they all want me to know I can talk to them, hang with them, forget you're on the other side of the world with them. It's been fine hanging with Callen, Sam, Eric and Nell, who by the way laughs at my jokes so you're going to have to work on that when you come back to work.

When you come back to me.

Anyway, I want to talk to you. Since I can't, I think when I have something to say, I'll say it here. I got this great little thumb drive and really, in L.A. in December, who isn't thinking of snowmen?

I hope you're warm wherever you are. I hope they're treating you right. I know you're dazzling them with your all around awesomeness. You've dazzled me every day since we met.

This is getting depressing and morose with a glitter-like dusting of self-pity. If you were here you'd kick my ass for this. And I'd deserve it. Instead, I will sign off the first chapter of the Book of Marty this way - I miss talking to you. It's been one of my favorite things to do since we met.

Be safe, come home,  
Deeks, Test Subject

* * *

**Postscript:**

Sent July 6, 2014 at 10:43PM PDT  
TO: henrietta . lange at ncis . navy . mil  
FM: deeks8523 at lapd . lacity . org  
Subject: How I'm Spending My Summer Vacation 1.0

Hey Hetty,

Hope you're enjoying your summer break. This is just a quick note to say thanks for so much for arranging the leasing of my motorcycle to all those photos shoots, film and television productions since last fall. After figuring out what the IRS needed and putting money aside so Monty and I can live a little more comfortably on a cop's pension, I decided to have some fun with a bit of the rest:

Deekscursion dot tumblr dot com

See you August 15th. I'll have photos, too.

Marty Deeks

Hetty stared at the e-mail. Deeks was evasive about his summer plans, "just hanging around" was his constant answer. She had Eric do a quick search of Deeks's credit card expenditures and the airlines before she shut the office down for six weeks - no plane tickets, no hotel reservations, nothing out of the ordinary for the Detective.

The web addressed worried her. Clicking on the address, a bare bones website opened. There was a locked video and a pop-up box that said "Password paid for this - two words, no spaces, no caps."

Hetty typed in "triumphbonneville" and the video started. "I Believe I Can Fly" graphic showed up over a helicopter taking off at the base of a mountain. There was a fade to a small group of adults standing at the top of a mountain in wingsuits. A quick cut changed it to a split screen with video from what looked to be a pair of helmet cams. Hetty only recognized one profile - Marty Deeks.

"Oh, Mr. Deeks," she said from her rented villa in Monaco.

Soon enough, the group jumped. The split screen provided a look of what Deeks saw as he glided through the air and what he looked like as he sailed through the clouds. It was beautiful, exhilarating and absolutely insane. A few minutes into the flight, Deeks and his fellow wingsuit jumpers opened their parachutes. The video switched to Deeks's point of view as he slowly made his way back to terra firma. There was a triumphant scream as he landed followed by some heartfelt laughter. Another cut in the video was from a professional camera on the ground, following Deeks's descent for the last fifty feet, the joy on his face as he landed and the celebratory scream when he landed as well as a website address for Oregon Wingsuit Leaps.

Before fading to black, a final graphic appeared:

Cost of Wingsuit/Parachute - $1,972.28  
Cost of Instruction and Practice Jumps - $6,200.00  
Cost of Mountain Jump - $1,000,00 (and cheap at twice the price)  
Having $15,827.72 in cash left over and five more weeks of adventures - Priceless.

To be continued...

"You cheeky bastard," Hetty chuckled without an ounce of malice.

-30-

* * *

Oh, the odious author's notes.

1. This is likely a three-parter. There will not be weekly updates as is my wont. More monthly but finished before Kensi returns to Los Angeles. Probably part two sometime in mid-January and mid-February for part three.

2. Type "Every Day I Write the Book - Ron Sexsmith & Elvis Costello" into youtube. Click on the video from "deerfried" - 5:30 in length. It is how this all started.

3. Happy holidays. Thanks for reading. Thanks for all the fun I've had for the last year. I am so grateful for all the kind words, the feedback, the follows and favorites. Just amazed and overwhelmed by everyone's kindness.


	2. Your Compliments & Your Cutting Remarks

**DISCLAIMER**: Not mine.

Note: Since I'm always making things more complicated than they need to be, this chapter happens in January 2014. The postscript occurs in the summer of 2014.

* * *

**2.** "All your compliments and your cutting remarks  
Are captured here in my quotation marks  
I'm giving you a longing look  
Every day, every day, every day I write the book" - Elvis Costello

.  
Deeks was putting in some time on the speed bag when Hetty walked into the gym.

"Mr. Deeks, if you have a moment after you've showered."

Deeks stilled the bouncing bag with both hands. "Sure, can you give me five?"

"I can even give you ten, Detective," Hetty told him as she walked out.

Deeks wondered what he did now as he walked to the men's locker room to shower off his morning workout. After a quick shower, Deeks saw that neither Sam or Callen were at their desks. Taking that as an ominous sign, he pulled his phone out of his top desk drawer and made his way to Hetty's office. "You wanted to see me," he said. "Where's everyone?"

"Please sit down," Hetty pointed to the empty guest chair. "You'll be joining the others in Ops after we talk."

"I'm sure whatever I did, I have an explanation for it."

"Would you care to explain?"

"Explain what?"

"Whatever you think you did that warrants an explanation."

"I don't think I need to explain anything but since we're here..." Deeks put his hands out, "and nobody else is I'm assuming I've done something."

Hetty opened her top desk drawer and handed him two envelopes - one was from Universal Pictures, another from Vanity Fair. "These are for you. The production manager so liked the motorcycle that he's offered twice the rate paid for the Ron Howard production for a Wes Anderson film about a 1960's recluse being filmed in New Orleans."

"Glad the bike is seeing America," Deeks grumbled before saying to Hetty, "thank you for these."

"I had a rather interesting talk with Mr. Callen over the weekend."

"And?"

"He was looking for you Friday night."

"I had a couple of hang-ups from an unknown caller. Was that Callen? I didn't know it was Callen. He wasn't calling from his cellphone."

"His phone was not operating properly and he found a pay phone in a tire store. Do you usually not answer when you have calls from an unknown phone?" Hetty asked.

"I got a call from LAPD when I was leaving here Friday night. They needed someone to sit in a bar and watch the bartender, who is really Detective Angela Sanchez. She was coming to the end of a narcotics case she's been working for nearly eighteen months."

"So you were asked to back up Det. Sanchez."

"Yes. I don't know if you saw it in the Times but there were seventy gang members and drug dealers busted Friday night, Saturday morning in a major joint LAPD-DEA operation. Angela was a big part of that so Roger Bates wanted someone watching her. Nero Winston, the kingpin in all this, took a shine to Angela as failed actress turned bartender Maria Rivera. Angela held him off because Nero has a wife Sharon and two kids in University Hills, a mistress Jane Palmer and three kids in San Diego and a top female lieutenant slash madam named Christina Brown who he has a friends with benefits deal. Plus he was sleeping with a couple of the girls the Brown runs so he was easy enough to hold off. Problem is, we had Winston on tape saying that once this big deal that he didn't know was a set-up was over, he was going to take Angela as Maria to Calexico to celebrate whether she wanted to go or not and bring her into his little harem. Seems Winston's women all know and like each other." Deeks shrugged his shoulders. "Go figure."

"So you were there to keep an eye on Det. Sanchez."

"Winston doesn't always show up for his deals. He sometimes watches from a car nearby."

"Like Janvier."

"Exactly. Bates was worried if he somehow didn't get arrested at the deal site, he'd make a beeline to Angela and run. So I went to where Angela was working, sat at the end of the bar, watched Angela as I caught the end of the Heat-Nets game double overtime game and then the Lakers-Clips," he shook his head sadly. Seems whenever he watched the Clippers in public, there were no happy outcomes. "I got a call around midnight from Bates to get Angela out of there and take her to Bates's office. She left the bar to go to the ladies room, I left my bar stool to go to the men's room and we both walked out the back door and into a patrol car that was waiting for us."

"Mr. Callen was told that by Lieutenant Bates."

"So you knew where I was," Deeks wasn't sure where this was going but guessed it wasn't anything good.

"When he couldn't find you, he contacted Lt. Bates, who said you had an assignment and later e-mailed both your and Det. Sanchez's after-action reports to both Mr. Callen and to me."

"So we're good."

"About Friday, yes. Mr. Callen should have used his regular phone. He was also able to bring Miss Jones with him to a break-in at a company called D-Seven."

"The military contractors?"

"Yes. They were possibly involved in a plane crash..."

"When I was recovering. I read the reports before I came back. Why did Callen want me?"

"Mr. Hanna was unavailable due to a family illness."

"Is Michelle okay? The kids?" Deeks asked, genuinely concerned.

"Chicken pox. Michelle has the chicken pox. One of the children gave it to her."

"Oh no," Deeks didn't mean to smile but he did find some humor in someone as bad ass as Michelle slowed down a little by something he had when he was eight.

"So Mr. Callen knew where Mr. Hanna was this weekend but he was unaware that you were on assignment with the LAPD."

"I wouldn't call it being on assignment. I was watching out for Angela. She's played my wife, ex-wife or girlfriend on a couple cases in the past. I think I had a picture of her in my wallet as Sully's ex-wife a couple of years ago. Bates needed muscle, Ang asked for me."

"Are you and Det. Sanchez are close?"

"We're friendly. I do actually have a few friends on the force. I don't go to her kids' birthday parties or family barbecues but if she needs muscle on a case, I usually get the call."

Hetty pulled out a sheet of paper. "On December 27th, you put on your homeless garb and slept in Pershing Square."

"Didn't sleep. I was wide awake. There was a heist planned at the International Jewelry Center. The bad guys thought there would be less security since it was after Christmas. I was there in case the suspects left through a side door. There isn't much traffic on South Hill at night so any surveillance vehicle would have been noticed but a homeless guy wandering around - perfect lookout. It was all in my report. The office here was closed for the holidays so I offered to help if anyone wanted time off with their family."

"Anyone at LAPD," Hetty noted.

"Yes. The office here was closed."

"On January 4th, you were working the door of Rotica as a bouncer."

"Rotica is an LAPD front and everyone in plainclothes does a shift every few months. I got my first quarter required assignment out of the way. Again, the office here was closed." Deeks saw Hetty frowning. "I do work for LAPD," he reminded her.

"Our offices were closed to give you and the rest of the staff an opportunity to relax and rest. Instead, you took on several assignments for LAPD."

"I did the same thing last year. When we got back from the Van Buren, two friends wound up using the cabin I rented for the holiday so I worked undercover crowd control during the Hollywood New Year's Eve Pub Crawl and then security at the Rose Bowl. If it's missing from your list, and I did send you a report, I did that again this year. I even got high five'd from Magic Johnson as he left the Coliseum. That's really a high five, the man is tall," Deeks smiled at the memory. "I was told by you when the liaison position was offered to me," Deeks thought 'offered' was generous, "and I am told by Roger Bates all the time that my work for LAPD takes precedence over my work here."

"But you volunteered for some of these assignments."

"As I've done over the last few years. If I don't have Christmas plans, and I didn't have a single one this year after Christmas Eve, I tell Bates we're not that busy. If someone needs time with their family, I'm available." Deeks told her. "I've sent you report after report on all of these assignments, on all my LAPD assignments. I didn't send Friday's report because I got in, worked out and you wanted to see me before I could write it up."

Hetty nodded sagely, which made him more nervous. "Do you have any LAPD assignment this weekend?"

"None that I'm aware of."

"Please tell Lt. Bates that you'll be unavailable. Nate submitted his treatise on the impact of torture on rescue personnel. It has been well received. The SecNav and her Director of Mental Health Issues, a Dr. Rachel Cranston, would like to interview you after Nate presents his findings at a conference. Nate told the SecNav and Dr. Cranston that a conversation he had with you and your notes on his work were cogent."

"Do I need to fly to Washington?" Deeks did not want to fly to Washington in January. He saw those polar vortex temperatures on the news.

"No, the meeting is in San Diego. The SecNav and her family are going to be in town this upcoming weekend as her son looks at San Diego State as a college option. It seems he's a highly recruited high school soccer player. She's arranged for you to stay at the Grand Del Mar, where they're holding the conference," Hetty handed him an itinerary. "The hotel is dog friendly so Monty could join you. You'll be finished fairly early Saturday afternoon but the SecNav has arranged it so you can stay until Monday."

"That's nice of the SecNav," Deeks thought as yet another part of his life is being arranged for him - this time how he'll spend his holiday weekend. He was really beginning to miss his life as an adult, making his own arrangements, having his own plans. "Nate never sent me his final paper. Is it available online somewhere or can he e-mail me a copy?" Deeks though he'd have to hit the Office Max again for some paper.

Hetty opened a file folder on her desk. "You can have mine," she told him as she handed over her bound copy of the report. "Nate makes some interesting conclusions."

"Can't wait to see what he wound up writing," Deeks took the paper. He wondered what Hetty thought of Nate's work since the original paper called into question a number of her decisions. "Thanks. Do you need anything else?"

"No, you can join the others up in Ops," she told him as she looked at her watch. "The team should be getting an update from Agent Walters from Camp Pendleton on the Allen murder momentarily. I expect the paperwork for your assignment with Det. Sanchez by the end of the day."

"Done," Deeks held up the checks, "Thank you again for these."

Deeks about two steps away from Hetty's desk when he heard "Oh, Mr. Deeks?" Turning around, he waited for her to continue. "About six weeks ago, you offered to return to the LAPD if..."

"That was a mistake," Deeks interrupted. "I made a mistake."

"And why's that?" Hetty looked genuinely interested in his answer.

"I was still a little," he searched for the right word, "unsettled by Kensi's sudden departure and wasn't sure what my role would be with her gone. I've come to realize that you made an operational decision. There's nobody on this team I'd trust more on an assignment than Kensi. It was really selfish and incredibly self-involved for me to think she was gone for any other reason than Kensi being highly qualified, maybe the most qualified person here. Nobody knows that better than me. I saw it every day I worked with her."

"Very well," Hetty told him, obviously not getting the answer she wanted but not being able to find fault in his reply. Thank you law school. "And returning to the Department?"

"They didn't keep me after Friday night. I'm here now," Deeks said with a smile. Eric's whistle saved him from any further conversation about his future. And Deeks was fine with that. Hetty, less so, and Deeks found himself fine with that too.

* * *

Deeks deposited his checks at the Citibank cash machine two block from the La Brea Tar Pits before he and Nell sat in a black SUV for a stake out of Agent Walters murder suspect eye doctor's office. Seems his Lasik surgery didn't go well. Neither did his last encounter with Sgt. Thomas Allen, an interpreter for the Marines. They were there for less than thirty minutes when Eric called - the suspect was picked up by a state trooper on his way back to San Diego. Sam and Callen were going Pendelton while Agent Walters got the suspect from the SDPD.

Deeks wondered if Pendleton had a liaison officer with the SDPD but decided to keep that question to himself.

Back in the office, Nell returned to Ops while Deeks finished his paperwork from the Winston arrest for Hetty, sent Bates a note about being unavailable that weekend and looked at the Grand Del Mar online. Swanky. He did notice a winter special that made the third night for any stay free. So going down Friday and staying until Monday cost exactly the same as going down Friday and leaving Sunday.

Maybe he'd take Kensi there when she got back. If she ever got back.

Deeks turned down an offer to join Nell and Eric for dinner and the season premiere of "Archer" - Nell's favorite show. He had a date with Netflix and episodes fifteen through seventeen of "Arrow" planned for the night. Maybe he'd used the money from the bike to pay for archery lessons. Who was he kidding? He wouldn't be allowed near an arrow - he could cut himself and Hetty would be having none of that.

As he walked up to his apartment, he saw Red's door open and his niece piling up boxes. "Hey Linda," he called. "Do you need some help?"

"Hi Marty. Would you mind helping me bring these to the car? I shouldn't ask, you were so helpful New Year's night."

"Please, I want to help. I'm only sorry I had to tell you the bad news," Deeks told her as he opened his door and tossed his messenger bag on the couch. Monty was indifferent to his return and sudden departure. "I'm going to miss Red," Deeks told Linda as he locked his door and walked across the hall.

"We all are. I mean, you can't hope for more than 92 years with mostly good health, right? Especially since he liked his scotch and steaks."

"Why would you want to live for 92 years if you can't enjoy your scotch and steaks?" Deeks smiled as he lifted a surprising light box. "Are you the blue Navigator out-front?" Deeks asked.

"Yes."

"Got an idea. You open the SUV and I'll run the boxes down, you put 'em in."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"Red was really good to me over the summer. He sent Josefina over with food and other stuff every few days. It was a big help. It's the least I can do."

"Did they catch the drug dealers who did that to you? Red wasn't telling tales out of school or anything, just said you were beaten badly on the job. He was worried about you. He always figured if anyone caused a problem..."

"It's nice to have a cop on the floor. Not that you actually look like one. What are you, part of the Mod Squad or something?" Deeks imitated Red's growl. "And yeah, they got the bad guys," Deeks said noncommittally with his own voice as they walked to the SUV. "Last summer, whenever Red went to the senior center, he'd come back with crossword puzzles or find-a-word books so I'd keep my mind sharp while I was recovering. It was nice to have someone watching out for me."

"That's Red. Always fixing things. Cars, household appliances, people he liked."

"He was a great guy," Deeks smiled as they got to the SUV. "I'll be back."

Most of the boxes were light. There were eleven of them left, so two a trip and one for the final run out to the car. It didn't take ten minutes.

"I'm going to have these washed and donated to St. Vincent de Paul," Linda told him as they put the final box in the SUV. "He had to have ten packs of tube socks, unopened. Half-a-dozen packages of underwear and undershirts, too. I took him with Josefina to Westfield Mall every few weeks and he'd always buy socks and underwear," she smiled as she shook her head and slammed the SUV's back door closed. "Can I show you something Marty? I was going to leave you a note about it but this works out perfectly."

Deeks figured Linda was going to need help with something else. Instead of returning to Red's apartment the two walked to the pair of outdoor single car garages in the back of the building. "These are the owners," Deeks told her.

"I know. Red never wanted anyone to know but he owned the apartment building."

"He what?" Deeks was stunned.

"Yeah, Red never wanted anyone to know because he just wanted to live here and not hear people complain about the rent or fix broken sinks. The only thing he hated fixing was plumbing. He hired a management company for that."

"Red? Our Red? My nice little old man neighbor who complained about the Dodgers and was still angry the Rams left?"

"One and the same. He bought the building in bankruptcy court in the 1972, moved in. That's how he got that weird three bedroom set-up. He took the studio next door to his original apartment and just knocked down the walls."

"He told me he was a mechanic."

"He was," she said as she pulled out a piece of paper and punched in a code in the door's key pad. There was a beep and the automatic door lifted. Deeks was amazed by a wall of hand tools and several reinforced tables with significant power tools. Deeks didn't need to see the drills.

Linda walked to a floor to roof cage and opened it. "It's here, Marty," she waved him back.

Deeks walked to the door of the cage and saw it. And it was glorious. "Is that a 1947...

"1947 Indian Chopper," Linda was beaming as she answered.

"Steve McQueen owned one..."

"...And was a client of Red's."

"Steve McQueen was a client? Oh my God, Red Anderson. He's that Red Anderson?"

"Red's Open Road. He started working as a mechanic for a Cadillac dealer in Beverly Hills after the war..." Linda started

"But he wound up with his own place. Red Anderson, car guru to the stars."

"He helped Hollywood types find their dream cars, started collecting fancy cars and renting them out to movie companies."

"I'm learning a bit about that."

"Yeah, Red left a note saying you had a Triumph Bonneville."

"Yeah, the Steve McQueen edition. It's making me some money," Deeks moved closer to the bike. "Can I touch it?" The bike was black and in pristine condition. He pulled out his phone and took a picture. He wondered if a selfie with the bike would be more inappropriate than asking the mourning niece of his dead neighbor and friend to take a picture of him with the Indian.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Red spent his whole life making notes. He had a will and most of his personal collection is going to charity or being auction off for his grandkids but he wanted a few people offered things with the ability to say yes or no." She opened her handbag, pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to him.

Deeks read it out loud. "Marty across the hall. Show him the Indian in the garage cage. If he wants it, work out a payment plan for him. He's a cop so no interest since I always felt safer with him around. The bike's worth about $25,000. If he doesn't want it, auction it off. Oh, if he buys it, let him keep it in the garage, gratis. You don't leave the Indian on the street." Deeks looked at her, stunned. "I don't know what to say."

"We can set up some kind of payment plan but the bike is yours if you want to work something out. I can get it appraised to make sure Red's price is right but don't feel pressured and if you don't want it..."

"I want it. Oh do I want it. There's no problem with the money. I can have a teller's check for you by the end of the week."

Linda laughed. "You like it?"

"This," Deeks said as he pointed to the bike and just shook his head. "It's perfect Linda. Wow, Steve McQueen, Red Anderson. Why didn't he tell anyone he was that Red Anderson? Anyone who knows cars would know who he was."

"Not his style. It's why all the Hollywood types loved him. He liked the bikes, the cars, whatever and wanted to find the right one for everyone. Didn't give a damn about the celebrity lifestyle part. Made him genuine to guys like McQueen."

"He was genuine." Deeks left the cage.

"He was the best," Linda began to talk as she started to lock up. "My dad went out for a pack of smokes when I was six and never came back. Red was Mom's brother and the best thing that ever happened to us. He and Audrey took us in while Mom worked. When Audrey got sick, they could have asked us to leave but instead, we all took care of each other. When Audrey died, Red gave Mom their house and moved here. Worked on his company, put Ronnie, my brother, through medical school. Put me through law school. Put my Mom in a nice home when the Alzheimer's took her away. When I met my husband, I found the man who most reminded me of Red. Kind heart, good head, loves fun."

As they started back to her car, Deeks said, "I heard him talk about Audrey. He adored her."

"He did. My Mom always wanted him to find a nice girl and remarry. You know, a good woman looking for a good man. But he'd always say he had his Audrey and that was enough."

"She died young, right?" Deeks asked as they started walking to Linda's SUV.

"1972. She wasn't even fifty years old. I was twelve, Ronnie was sixteen. Ovarian cancer. They can't do much with that now, they sure as hell couldn't do anything about it then. I know that's why Ronnie is an oncologist."

"Such a tragedy."

"Red said his only regret in life was the time he spent building Red's Open Road. He said once they were making good money in the mid and late '60's, he should have taken Audrey to Paris or to Hawaii. In the late sixties, going to Hawaii was a big deal. He always thought he'd retire at fifty-five and they'd travel the world together. She never made fifty and he never left Los Angeles after she died," Linda started to tear up as they got to the car. "He told me he dreamed of seeing Hawaii with Audrey all the time. He hated waking up but knew she's be there another night when he slept."

"Wow, it's getting dusty here," Deeks said with a lump in his throat.

Linda was a little misty. too. "Well you know that better than anyone. You lost this summer getting better. I bet you're going for the gusto in everything you're doing now."

"The Indian is going to help with that." Oh, is the Indian going to help with that.

"I'm out of town after Thursday - bringing my kid back to college - if you want to drop the check off," she handed him her business card, "do it sometime next week. And we can still set up a payment plan, don't empty your savings account."

"Nope, got the money now so let's make this official. Are you're off to Ann Arbor after that ridiculous cold they had last week?"

"Fortunately, it warmed up over the weekend. Did Red tell you Jimmy was at Michigan?"

He could have reminded Linda that she showed up in a Michigan sweatshirt and her husband a Michigan cap when he met them at the morgue but decided against it. "Red couldn't understand why any kid as smart as Jimmy would go someplace as cold as Ann Arbor."

"That's Red. He spent WWII with the Devil's Brigade fighting and making sure everything ran right. Said he got a lifetime's worth of cold there. He can't, couldn't, understand why anyone lives north of San Francisco. Ann Arbor might as well be the North Pole." They got to her Navigator. "I'm going to miss that man."

"Everyone here is too. Linda, thank you..."

Linda stopped him. "Marty, Red would have only offered the Indian to someone he liked, respected and would treat the bike right. Just by your reaction in the garage, that's you. I'll have all the paperwork when you drop off the check along with a key card for the garage. You take care of yourself and take care of our city!"

"Yes ma'am," Deeks said as she got into her car. Watching her drive off, Deeks was just delighted by luck. Hetty just paid for the Indian. Maybe 2014 was going to be his year following the disaster that was 2013.

After taking Monty for a leisurely walk and finding the Lobsta Truck line to be manageable, Deeks and Monty were in for the night and in Deeks's case well-fed. Monty seemed less enamored with his dinner as Deeks was with his lobster roll and chowder.

Deeks downloaded the photo of the Indian and started his nightly Kensi update:

January 13, 2014

[img 02217]

Hey Kens,

What do you think of my gift from Hetty? She bought it for me and. It. Is. Awesome.

OK, she didn't buy it for me but she paid for it.

Yes, it is a 1947 Indian Chief Chopper and yes, it is the bike Steve McQueen rode. Remember I told you Red died New Year's Day? Well Red wasn't just my neighbor, he was Red Anderson, car broker to the stars. The Indian was his and he left a note asking his niece to see if I wanted to buy it. Hetty gave me the checks from the companies renting my bike so...

And I don't want to hear about PSTD and motorcycles. I rode my first motorcycle when I was fifteen. OK, it wasn't my motorcycle and technically I didn't have the owner's permission because he actually didn't know we borrowed it but that's not the point. The point, and I do have one, is that I've been riding motorcycles for years. It was one of the dozens of things Hetty wanted to know I could do once I was assigned to NCIS. No, I can fly a plane; no, I can't fence; no, I don't speak Farsi. But I know how to ride a motorcycle.

Besides, it wasn't even a month after I got back to your office when Hetty sent us into the desert on motorcycles. If Callen can fly planes for work and pleasure, Sam can go scuba diving and you, partner, can ride a motorcycle for fun, then so can I.

January 13, 2014 - five days after my 35th birthday and I'm declaring my independence. It is InDeekspendence Day! Cue the fireworks!

The day even started with some fun. I told you about the busts over the weekend. Well, it seems Hetty is unhappy I'm not living and breathing the NCIS life or that I have responsibilities to the LAPD. I told you I offered to go back but I've realized that was a mistake and I told her that. And that gave me a Hetty moment. Where I gave a perfectly acceptable answer but draped in enough mystery that she wasn't sure what to make of it. Ah, I can see why she does that to us all the time - it is fun giving a right answer that can be used to my advantage and not hers. The rush was a-maz-ing.

As our talk went on, I think Hetty wanted me to make some declaration that I wanted to stay at NCIS and I'm annoyed with my LAPD assignments. She's wrong. I love them. Especially with you gone. It kind of sucks without you around and it sucks less when I'm busy. I'm going to make sure I stay busy.

Speaking of sucks, I'm going to talk to the new SecNav and some mental health expert about Nate's Deeksertation. Hetty gave me a copy of it today and I'm going to read it before bed. I'm still thinking of a funny title for it - now I have to impress the SecNav. I was thinking Midday in the Garage of Bad and Evil is much better than Moby Deeks, which was my last thought.

The only nice part is I'm meeting with the SecNav and her head headshrinker at the Grand Del Mar in San Diego. I'm getting an all-expenses paid weekend out of it. Maybe we can do a weekend there when you get back. I mean if you get some time off. I'm working like a dog, Monty says hi by the way, so I'll have some time if you want to do something when you're back. I mean we don't have to do anything, just coming back is fine, but if you have some downtime, the Grand Del Mar, Vegas, Tahoe, Hawaii, hell a week at Shutters on the Beach as long as you're there is fine with me.

Well, I have 200 plus pages to read about last spring, because living it obviously wasn't enough, so ends tonight's little Marty Memoir.

Be safe, come home,  
Proud owner of a 1947 Indian Chief Chopper

He popped his little snowman thumb drive into the computer and saved the file by date. He only missed three days and last Friday was by an hour and forty-five minutes. He took a Dr. Brown's ginger ale from the fridge and made his way back to his couch. Nate's treatise and looking up some info on the Indian would push Ollie's time on the island on "Arrow" back another day.

* * *

January 14, 2014

Hey,

It's a little before 1AM and ...

I read Nate's report. You were bothered I wouldn't look at you. 'Agent K was troubled when she told the team leader that the victim stopped making eye contact.' Really? You kept me there with people who beat and tortured me. What was I supposed to do, thank you?

And I can't tell you how fabulous it is to be called a victim over and over. Nate took his report to the next level, it seems, doing a full scale analysis of you and me. I'm the victim. You're, well, you're half victim, half agent of Hetty's nuclear bomb recovery plan. She's the puppet master of the situation we were in. Of course, Hetty was making clear-headed decision sitting in her office, which has a far more comfortable chair than the one I was strapped to.

Every time that Russian psycho would pull the drill back I would think, oh God, Kensi's here. She's going to shoot this son of a bitch and cut me loose. But no. He'd just move to the next tooth. And the next one. And the one after that.

And the you were there. I'm sorry if I didn't greet you and Granger warmly and cheerfully accept my next assignment. I was too busy bleeding and being in God-awful pain. What a disappointment I must be. God, for a few minutes I thought you were a bad dream because I never thought you wouldn't help me.

Did it bother you that I was made to stay there even though I wanted out? Did it bother you not to get me help because my God, I could never do that to you. Or was it more distasteful that I was so weak and didn't live up to some standard you have. Was I supposed to be...

I can't. I just. I can't.

* * *

January 14, 2014, 8:10AM

Hey Kensi,

Well, that escalated quickly.*

I went surfing this morning. Needed to think, to calm down. A big part of me wants to delete last night's or I guess this morning's rant but I sort of promised myself I wouldn't change or delete anything I wrote to you on Sammy the Snowman here - I named him Sammy by the way - so I'm keeping it. And for the record, in the January 3rd note, I used there instead of their. I know the difference and Mrs. Rivera in fourth grade language arts would not be pleased.

I am not angry with you, Kensi. Please know that. I'm angry, though I loathe to admit it, but I'm not angry with you. I've worked really hard not to be angry. The old man was angry and my ultimate goal in life is not to be him.

But I am working through some anger, I guess. I'm angry about the situation we were in. Why you were sent to see me, why nobody had another plan that didn't include keeping me in the chair, why anyone thought keeping me, keeping Sam on those chairs was a good idea. I told Nate that the nukes were recovered and nobody is going to care what Hetty, Callen and the rest did to make it happen. Well, that might be true for Hetty and Callen but Nate cares. And I did some research this morning on the SecNav's new headshrinker - she is going to care too.

I'm angry at myself for not handling last summer better. Angry for wasting so much time away from you. Angry that I kept you away. I couldn't see you. In the beginning I was just such a mess and sleeping all day that nobody needed to see that. Then, well, I was angry about you not doing what I wanted in the garage. Add in not sleeping and not feeling right and I was a mess. Then Hetty breaks into my apartment and who the hell needed that. She scared me about you, though. So I guess she used you to get me to do what she wanted. Again. Hell of a bit of leverage she has there, huh? I think I may channel my anger issues into more of messing with Hetty's head. Yesterday morning was so empowering.

Last summer, the only one who handled things right was you. I asked you for time and you gave me time. When you thought I needed you, there you were. With food. And beer. I told you you'd make someone a great personal assistant someday. I honestly thought you'd be offended by wife or girlfriend so I switched gears. And did a piss poor job of it.

So that you know, you're a great friend, not someday, always. And a great partner, companion, whatever the hell we are to each other. No, that's wrong too. You're just great. I should tell you that more often. When you come back to me, I will.

I'm off to work. I've decided to sit in on Nate's presentation to the SecNav and company. Know what they're going to think before they get the full Marty Deeks experience. As part of that, I'm going to tell the SecNav how magnificent you are. How I survived because of you and how NCIS is so damn lucky to have you. So am I.

Be safe, come home,  
Not Gordy, never Gordy

*By the way, when you get back, skip "Anchor Man 2" - terrible movie. Not funny. Sam Hanna in a bad mood level of not funny.

* * *

**Postscript:**

An alert told Hetty that Deeks's credit card held a suite for one night at The Venetian in Las Vegas. Unfortunately, the alert found the credit card was used three days after the Navy Yard's Cyber-Unit started looking for her liaison officer. There were no charges from The Venetian - not for a room, not for food or entertainment either - on his credit card, just a five hundred dollar hold that disappeared days later.

The Venetian wanted a legal reason to hand over any information about Deeks's stay or security video confirming he was in the facility at all. Hetty knew it would be impossible to get a warrant to track a police officer obeying the law while on a summer walk-about. The Cyber-Unit called the security system protecting the casino's digital surveillance system something that would make the NSA weep. The former head of the unit, a Special Agent McGee, told Hetty that he thought with two decryption experts working on the hotel's security camera's firewalls would have it cracked by mid-August. Hetty thanked McGee for his time and declined the offer.

Nothing was charged to any of Deeks's credit cards since she closed the offices for the annual summer break other than scheduled monthly fees for his cable/internet, his gym membership and his Netflix subscription. It seemed Deeks was enjoying a cash only lifestyle with the money earned by his motorcycle.

Everything he loaded to his website was traced to an internet cafe in Fribourg, Switzerland that specialized in hiding internet addresses. It seems Mr. Deeks learned as much from Miss Jones as she did from him during their time in the field. Hetty was torn between being frustrated, proud and amused by his behavior.

The latest e-mail arrived just after she returned from a day sailing. She wasn't expected at the Yacht Club for dinner and drinks with the Grimaldis for another two hours. Plenty of time to try to figure where Detective Deeks's travels took him since his last e-mail.

Sent July 17, 2014 at 8:15AM MDT  
TO: henrietta . lange at ncis . navy . mil  
FM: deeks8523 at lapd . lacity . org  
Subject: How I'm Spending My Summer Vacation 2.0

Hey Hetty,

The latest update has been posted to Deekscursion dot tumblr dot com. Actually, two updates and some photos this time since I'm finally someplace where I can get access to the internet. Anyway, same password as last time - what paid for this time away, two words, no spaces, no caps. I'm learning so much on this trip. Seems Utah is completely underrated for its awesomeness but really troubled when it comes to the free secure Wi-Fi. Utah - who knew? I thought it was nothing but Osmonds.

I've found myself with an infusion of new cash - what happens in Vegas may stay in Vegas but what I won in Vegas is hitting the road with me. I'm off to find new adventures. I'm thinking water-based ones since I've spent far too long inland.

Marty Deeks

Hetty typed in "triumphbonneville" again and the website loaded. A page with three links appeared: "They See Me Rollin', They Hatin'" was first, "Swing, Baby Swing" was second, "What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas" was third.

Hetty started at the top. "They See Me Rollin', They Hatin'" link opened to photos of Deeks standing at the entrance of the U.S. Olympic facility in Park City. There were blue skies behind a tan and smiling Deeks. A video called "Flat on My Back" started to play.

The "Flat on My Back" video opened at the bobsled track. Deeks smiled for the camera as he eased himself on a luge. A male voice, off camera, offered advice, "Alright, Marty. Remember what you did on the practice track. If you feel yourself losing control of the luge or you're just uncomfortable, you know how to slow things down and we'll end the ride. There are folks stationed all around the track if there's a problem."

"There won't be," Deeks said as he strapped on the helmet with a camera.

"Have a good ride, Marty. It's a blast. Wait for the bell and go."

Deeks smiled and the helmet cam went live. Hetty heard Deeks take a deep breath and bell sounded. The video switched to a split-screen, the helmet cam and cameras along the track, as Marty Deeks rode a luge through the Olympic bobsled track. Hetty noticed staffers every few yards as Deeks went flying through the track. He had no trouble on the flat portions of the ride. She heard him take another deep breath as the luge hit the big turn. He handled it with ease. The video added a third view as he made it to the finish line. The handheld camera from the beginning of the ride now caught the final few yards.

At the finish line, Deeks started laughing. He jumped off the luge once he got it to stop and threw his hands up in the air. "That was awesome. I'm so doing that again," he told the handheld camera. Three quick cuts showed the end of three different rides.

Hetty shook her head and tried the "Swing Baby Swing" link. There was a photo of Deeks standing on a canyon in Moab with the Corona Arch just behind him, skies as blue as they were in Park City. He was still tan and smiling, looking like a man without a care in the world. She clicked on the video. There were a group of climbers walking up to the top of the Arch carrying a considerable amount of gear. A number of the climbers had their own video cameras. Hetty made a note to check YouTube for any non-Deeks supplied video of this event.

After watching the climbers secure some ropes for what Hetty thought would be a climb down the Arch, Deeks looked in the camera and said "Let's do it." The screen went black and music filled the room - "Swing Baby Swing" by The DNC. Wearing yet another helmet cam, Deeks appeared with some climbing ropes. Smiling, he ran to the end of the canyon and started to swing. The climbers secured a number of ropes to the top of the Arch, making the world's largest swing.

As the music played, Deeks and the other climbers took turns jumping and swinging from the Arch. Between split screens of the other climbers filming a swinger with a helmet can, Deeks twice held a broomstick with a camera attached to the end so Hetty saw again the unadulterated joy of the free-range Marty Deeks. The video and song ended with a group shot of the climbers/swingers as the sun was setting.

She clicked on the Las Vegas link. No video this time, just photos. Deeks standing under the "Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas" sign. Deeks in the ornate lobby of The Venetian. Deeks sitting in a gondola. Deeks at Madame Tussauds with his arm around Nick Fury/Samuel L. Jackson. Deeks in a black button-down shirt and jeans outside of "Rock of Ages" with his thumbs up. Deeks backstage at "Rock of Ages" with several stars including one Hetty vaguely remembered from the odious "Starlight Express" on Broadway years ago. Deeks wearing what he had on earlier in the day at what looked like a blackjack table. Deeks celebrating at the same blackjack table. Deeks filling out forms in an office with a stack of bills and finally a selfie with Deeks in a fluffy robe from what was obviously a high floor hotel room with The Strip and the Mirage behind him.

On the bottom of the page was his latest accounting.

US Olympic Complex in Park City Luge Lessons/Pro-Luge Run - $1,500  
Corona Arch in Moab Rope Swing Costs - $1,117.58  
Addition of some black-jack winnings at The Venetian: $17,745.17 (after taxes)  
Money left - $30,955.31  
Days left - 21

To be continued...

"Oh, Mr. Deeks," Hetty smiled and clicked on the swing video again.

-30-


End file.
